A New Half-Brother
by clairemarie91
Summary: Tommy reacts to Finn being born.


Tommy didn't expect to care about his father's new child.

He certainly didn't care about his father's new wife, Rebecca. A brothel madam with over-rouged cheeks and the constant smell of stale powder about her, she was hardly the maternal type, and she didn't hold a candle to Tommy's mother. No woman could.

He remembered little about her, and in a way, that was a gift. The less he really knew, the more his mind could embellish and convince him that she was perfect. After all, it was his mother that had given him Arthur, John, and Ada. The four of them together made up for her loss, made up for the lack of character in their boozehound of a father. They were knit together as tightly as any wool coat, and there was no room for any additions. At least, that's how he saw it.

Ada was pacing in the front room as darkness quickened outside their apartment on Watery Lane. She was twelve and susceptible to romantic notions, and somehow found it exciting that they were to have a new sibling.

"Half-sibling," Tommy corrected for the hundredth time, sitting at the kitchen table and thumbing through a book while Pol made dinner. Arthur was still at work in the factory, and John sat in the corner building a tower of cards with the leftovers of a Rummy game that Ada had abandoned in her anxiety over the impending birth of a new child.

"Don't be such a grouch, Tom," Ada scowled.

Tommy smiled. She looked like a nervous father, pacing the room like that. All she needed was a cigar to puff on.

"You'll be the grouch come this time tomorrow," Tommy countered. "All babies do is cry and shit, Ada. You don't remember because you were the last."

An awkward silence filled the room like a fog. Ada's birth was rarely discussed among them, as she'd taken her first breath almost exactly as their mother had taken her last. And yet, try as he might, Tommy couldn't quite hold it against Ada, with her cherubic cheeks and sparkling eyes. She hadn't been such a bad baby, he seemed to remember. But that was Ada. Surely this new baby would be far less charming.

"Dinner's on," Polly called from the kitchen.

A loud cry came from the bedroom, and Ada's and John's heads shot up with concern.

"Come on," said Pol, ushering them to the table. "It'll be a while yet."

"Does it hurt bad, Aunt Pol?" Ada asked, her face blanched with fear.

"Yup," she replied, not one to sugarcoat things. "And it never stops."

Tommy looked up at Polly. Her face was pinched with pain. The absence of Michael and Anna was a loud, screaming vacuum in the room. Tommy put his hand on her shoulder, and she placed her hand on top of it and squeezed before pushing him toward the table.

"I don't think I ever want to have one," Ada said, looking worried.

"Let's talk about something else," Tommy said, tucking into his dinner plate. "Ada, have you been practicing your times tables?"

"Yes," Ada beamed. "We've just learned nines."

"I learned nines ages ago," John boasted. "Wait till you get to elevens."

"Everyone knows elevens are easiest, John, it's only-"

A hair-raising scream echoed through the kitchen, the bedroom door no longer a sufficient barrier for Rebecca's agony.

Ada, though she insisted on being treated like a grown adult most of the time, reached for Tommy's hand under the table. She bit down on her lip, and Tommy's irritation at the situation and at Ada's unshakeable optimism melted away.

"She's going to be all right, Ada," he reassured her.

John stood up, pushing his chair back loudly, his nerves obviously jangled. "I'm gonna go meet Arthur at the factory," he said, leaving his plate untouched.

Polly looked up at him with exasperation, but didn't say anything.

"Take the main road, John," Tommy warned.

John squinted and puffed his skinny chest. "You're not the boss of me."

"John," Tommy repeated.

"Yeah, whatever, Tom," he sighed, bounding out the door like an over-excited spaniel. For all the theatrics, Tommy trusted that he would listen.

Polly gave Tommy a knowing glance, which Tommy returned, Ada blissfully ignorant as she pushed turnips around on her plate.

Another shriek filled the kitchen, and Polly slammed her glass down on the table. "Why don't you practice your times tables with us, Ada?" she suggested.

Ada cleared her throat importantly. "Nine times two is eighteen. Nine times three is twenty-seven. Nine times four is thirty-eight-"

"Thirty-six, Ada," Tommy corrected.

"Yes, that's what I meant-"

Before she could continue, their father burst through the door, his face red with drink and excitement. "It's a boy!" he announced. "A healthy baby boy!"

"Congratulations, Arthur," said Pol, some of the tension in her shoulders releasing visibly.

"Another brother," Ada sighed, so quiet that only Tommy heard her. He smirked.

"Are you going to come give your father a handshake, Thomas?" demanded Arthur Sr.

Tommy swallowed bile and stood up, extending his hand toward his father. "Congratulations," he muttered.

"Would you like to come meet your brother?"

 _Half-brother_ , Tommy thought.

Ada elbowed past him eagerly. "I want to see him!"

Arthur Sr. chuckled proudly, ruffling Ada's hair. Tommy resisted the urge to grab his hand away from his sister. The man disgusted him - every day was a struggle to hide it.

Tommy put his hand on Ada's shoulder and followed her in.

Rebecca was sitting in the bed, the quilt pulled up around her, and in her arms was a small bundle that Tommy could scarcely believe was a human.

For the first time, Tommy thought that Rebecca looked beautiful. Her makeup had melted away, and her cheeks were flushed with exertion rather than rouge. Her green eyes sparkled with affection as she looked down at the tiny mess of blankets that she had just brought into the world, and she smiled up at Tommy and Ada as they entered. "Come meet your brother, then," she said, her voice bubbling with joy.

"Finnigan Shelby," Arthur Sr. declared.

Ada was the first to rush forward, cooing at the baby and waggling her fingers at him. Tommy remained in the doorway, watching impassively.

"Oh, Tommy," Ada sighed. "He's perfect! Come see!"

Tommy stepped forward.

He peered down into the bundle. The baby's eyes were still closed, puffy little slits, and his face was splotchy and red. He didn't look like Rebecca, nor did he look like his father - he looked more like a boiled potato than anything. "He's, uh… healthy," Tommy said awkwardly.

"A perfect baby boy," gushed Rebecca. "Would you like to hold him?"

"I don't think -" Tommy started, but before he could protest, Rebecca was pressing the baby into his arms, and the bundle felt more fragile than blown glass.

Tommy cleared his throat uncomfortably. He supported the baby's head in the crook of his elbow, marveling at how tiny he was. Finnigan's pink lips moved in sleepy hunger, and he lifted a small hand toward Tommy's face as though showing off his wrinkly little hands and barely-there fingernails. Something spread through Tommy's chest, something like awe.

"Hullo, Finn," Tommy murmured.

He had helped deliver foals at the stables where he worked during the days, and though they were weak and unstable when they were first born, they still seemed able to at the very least run away after a few days. Tommy didn't remember ever holding something so completely helpless, and it made him feel helpless in turn. Though he held Finn carefully, his knuckles whitened with rage at the fact that his bastard of a father had brought another child into this world, that the prideful smile Arthur Sr. wore now would eventually turn into a grimace of anger, into a swinging belt and a roar of frustration. Surely Tommy's father had once held him the same way Tommy held Finn now. What would trigger it? When would Finn be big enough to earn his father's anger the way Arthur, Tommy, and John had?

 _He won't lay a hand on you_ , Tommy thought, imagining that somehow the baby could hear his thoughts. _I can protect you._

"You're a right natural," Arthur Sr. said, cuffing Tommy lightly on the shoulder.

Tommy stiffened.

He turned to his father and handed him the baby. "Here," he said roughly. "I need a smoke."

Arthur Sr. held the baby gingerly for a moment before passing him back to Rebecca. Before he exited the doorway, Tommy turned back to face his father.

"Dad," he said.

Arthur Sr. looked up at him, and for the first time, Tommy saw something that reduced his father to something pitiable rather than something to be intimidated by.

He saw fear.

The threatening words that had been building on Tommy's tongue turned to ash. They were no longer worth speaking, because in a way that was almost clairvoyant, Tommy knew at that moment that Arthur Sr. wouldn't be around long enough to cause any harm to Finn. Fear was in his eyes. He was already running.

"What is it, Tom?" Arthur Sr. asked.

"Nothing," Tommy said, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away. "Nothing at all."


End file.
